Tukaram, Poem 42

I quote the words left behind by the saints; what can a clown like me know himself? I cannot utter the name of Vitthala aright—how could I draw the true moral from it? Like a child I linger over it with stammering lips; chide me for it, if you will. Do you forget what I am by birth? I cannot dwell on this thought. Tuka says, It is God who makes me speak; He alone knows the secret meaning of what I say.